


The Tide is High

by totilott



Series: A Groovy Kind of Love [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Justice League International (Comics)
Genre: 1980s, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Masturbation, Partnered Flight, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn, Songfic, Ted Feeling A Lot Of Things Without Knowing Why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 12:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17898152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totilott/pseuds/totilott
Summary: The League has an important press junket but Booster is tied up with an embarrassing issue. He's young. It happens.





	The Tide is High

There's a certain kind of satisfaction that comes with being exactly where you need to be, and that satisfaction is magnified when it's also a place you want to be. Ted rests his chin on his hand, a secret delight running through him knowing that even with the chaos going on just outside the luxurious limousine he's sitting in, for once it has nothing to do with him. 

The limo has such a good sound system too, capable of drowning out the shouting outside. Mostly. _“...Oh don't try to stop honey, hold me tight, outside a new day is dawning...”_ the state of the art speakers coo at him.

Okay, so one voice is cutting through the sound of Kim Wilde. Black Canary is standing on the sidewalk, desperately trying to keep a flock of photographers away while simultaneously shouting names of various League members like a stern school mistress.

It has a nicely stocked bar too, the limousine. Ted wonders what to pick for his first drink. And his second and his third. Today he's only required to stand on a podium and smile, who's to tell him he can be pleasantly sozzled if he wants to be. 

His train of thought is interrupted by Captain Atom entering the limousine, a grim look on his face as he sits down next to Ted.

“I hear traffic’s a nightmare, I don’t see why I can’t just fly to the Italian embassy.”

“Max insisted,” Ted replies while resting his eyes on the chaos outside, disinterested and mellow. “Not all of us can fly. And he said something about symbolic unity.” Besides, he's never traveled in such comfort before. Just as well the Bug is down for repairs. He could get used to this high life.

“I can’t see much unity right now,” Atom states flatly. “Symbolic or otherwise.”

Outside Mister Miracle has entered the fray. He says something to Canary and turns to walk inside the League HQ, and like a flash her hand has grabbed the collar of his cape, tugging him violently back. Boy is she _loud_.

Oberon appears on the curb, frowning as he defends Scott. There's a pause. This time Canary doesn't shout. She looks at them, murder in her eyes, and say something very very quietly. She points to the limo, and both Oberon and Scott enter sheepishly.

“Beetle,” Canary leans in through the open door. Ted jumps in response, his pulse rate spiking. What's he done now? “I swear herding cats would be easier,” Canary mutters to herself as she he brushes her blonde hair out of her face. “That’s you, Scott, Oberon -- I’m pretty sure J’onn is meeting us at the embassy, I think Guy too.”

Ted looks at her, wondering how this information concerns him.

“Booster’s been in the men’s room for going on ten minutes now, will you get him?”

 _Why don't you?_ he almost asks, but stops himself knowing nothing good will come of it. He's staying well out of trouble today. He clambers out, his heart sinking at leaving the air-conditioning, the leather seats, the stereo sound system, the bar. “Excuse me, gentlemen and gentleladies,” he nods to the photographers as he cuts a line through them. "Hero coming through." He tugs on the door of their HQ, the New York Justice League International Embassy, and slips inside.

As he ascends the stairs, every footstep echoing through the empty stairwell, he grumbles about such a meaningless task. Booster certainly knows their car leaves in five minutes for the press junket. What’s Ted supposed to do, cheer him on in the bathroom? The kid’s probably got a nervous stomach, that’s all.

The end of the second floor hallway, and he enters the mint green men’s room. The first stall is locked. “Uh, Booster? Buddy?”

“Yeah, um, just need a moment,” comes Booster’s voice from within.

“Don’t mean to hurry you, bud, just Canary wanted me to remind you the limo leaves in five minutes." He pauses. "It's got a bar," he adds for emphasis.

“Great, just -- I’ll be there, okay?”

Ted would happily slink back to the car, his duty fulfilled, but the touch of panic to Booster's voice stops him. “You... doing okay?”

“I’m _fine_ , Beetle.” Booster replies, sounding anything but.

“Look, we’ve all been there, okay,” Ted assures with a gentle voice. “I thought you were used to this promo stuff, though.”

There comes a quiet sigh from the stall.

Okay, time to get proactive. “I’ll see if I can root out some Pepto-Bismol for you, okay?” Ted turns to exit the door.

“No, it’s fine, don’t bother.”

“I've seen some in the kitchen, I won’t be a sec.”

“For God’s sake, Beetle, I don’t have an upset stomach!” Booster's voice reverberates between the stark walls.

“What do you mean?" Ted's hand is still resting on the door handle. "Why the hell are you locked up in here then?”

A pause. “I just... I can’t go out there right now.”

“Well, why not? You got a zit or something?”

“Harr harr,” Booster replies. Then he goes quiet again.

Ted slides his fingers under his goggles to pinch the bridge of his nose. There's a limousine waiting, and this is how he's spending his time. “Just tell me what’s going on, Booster.”

“Well uh,” comes the unhappy voice from within. “I got a hard-on.”

Ted's laughter comes out in a sudden burst, the sound becoming particularly deafening in the echo of the men’s room. “Jeez, Booster! What are you, sixteen years old?”

“I don’t know, it happens,” replies Booster desperately.

“I can’t believe this,” Ted giggles to himself. “What a start to the brand new Justice League International, you sure know how--”

“Beetle! Booster!” The sound of Canary’s voice carries through the hallway. “We've got to leave!”

“Just a moment!” Ted shouts, his head tilted back to make the sound carry, and then he turns to Booster with a wry smile; “Can’t you just, like, tuck it?”

“Where the _hell_ am I going to tuck it, Beetle?” Booster hisses. “I’ve got metallic seamless tights, you can’t hide anything in these.”

 _Yeah, I’ve noticed_ , thinks Beetle, blushing a little at this errant thought. “Well that’s on you, bud.”

“Oh my God,” says Booster. “Is that why you guys all wear undies over your tights? To tuck errant boners in the waistband?”

Ted starts laughing again.

“You and Scott and Supes and--” Booster pauses, then gasps. “ _Batman?!_ ”

Ted can’t breathe for laughing. He has to support himself on the sink so he won’t fall over. He doesn’t particularly want to get in close contact with the floor. “Alright, stop,” he giggles, wiping a tear. “Enough already. So cover yourself, just out to the car.”

“Oh sure, Beetle, I’ll just head to the embassy holding a potted plant at groin height." He turns his voice nasal like an old timey radio announcer. (A gag he's picked up from Ted, Booster has no frame of reference for old radio shows): "‘And here comes Booster Gold, his date for the evening is a lovely aspidistra'!”

"Uh huh," Ted's clears his throat, forcing himself to be serious. His lot in life is to be the ideas man. “I suppose you’ve tried thinking of something unsexy to, you know, calm down.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing these last fifteen minutes?” Booster groans. “I’ve been meditating on tax forms and root canals and calculus and --”

“You know calculus?” Ted smirks.

“And that ancient little lady who does the laundry, the one with the hairy mole.”

“Come on,” Ted leans against the door of the stall. “You know you’re wild about that little sex pot.”

“I don’t know what to do, Beetle,” Booster sighs. “Go on without me. Tell them I didn’t feel well. Tell them three bottles of Pepto-Bismol couldn’t help me.”

“Don’t give up, buddy.” Ted taps the stall door in sympathy. “Look, there are so many gross things you haven’t thought about.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know,” Ted scratches his chin and squints. “Oberon in a bikini.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes." Ted crosses his arms in thought. "Orrr... that pile of Guy's unwashed socks, the ones that smells like old sour cream.”

“Hey!”

That last shout didn’t come from Booster. Ted spins around to see Guy Gardner coming out of the innermost stall, his white gloves tucked under his arm.

“You been in my room?” Guy sneers.

“No need,” Ted replies with a tight-lipped smile. “The smell has engulfed the whole block. We’ll have to fumigate the building.”

Guy saunters over to the sink and Ted feels some surprise -- and relief -- at seeing him washing his hands.

“You’ve certainly been awfully quiet doing whatever business you’ve been doing,” Ted remarks.

“Can I help it you two gab and gab, ruining the peace of the throne room?” Guy pulls on his gloves and gives the door to Booster’s stall a rap with his knuckles. “So Booster-boy’s got a raging stiffy, huh? Whatcha’ been thinking 'bout?”

“Nothing,” Booster replies quietly from within.

“Can’t have been that Canary broad, huh?” He chews his lip with a grin. “Takes all kinds I guess. Personally I like that Cindy Crawford, she really gets the engine revvin’.”

“You done?” Ted sighs.

“Or did you get to thinking 'bout one of the guys?" Guy leers. "That yuppie sugar daddy of yours not here to take care of you today?”

“Go away, Guy,” Booster groans. “You got me, I was thinking about Sandy Crawford, just go.”

Guy looks at Ted and shakes his head with a grin. He gives his gloves an extra tug as he saunters out. The slam of the door echoes through the room.

“Always a charmer,” Ted mutters. Then he turns back to Booster’s stall. “How’s your situation going, buddy? Guy must be the world's greatest boner killer, right?”

“You’d think, but...” Booster sighs deeply. “It’s no use.”

“Well, then,” Ted hesitates. “I guess you just gotta, well,” he pauses, searching for words. “Take care of it.”

A strained silence fills the room. “Beetle,” Booster enunciates slowly. “I’m not exactly in the mood.”

“Well what do you expect me to do, put on Barry White and nibble your earlobe?” Ted snaps back, and he regrets the joke almost immediately, though he doesn’t exactly know why. “You handle it.”

“Fine, just --” Booster sighs so loud it echoes faintly through the room. “Give me some privacy.”

“You got it,” Ted replies, wasting no time backing towards the door, a flush of warmth in his cheeks.

“And make sure no one comes in, okay?”

Ted is already halfway out the door. “Sure thing, bud.” He pauses, hand on the handle. “You, uh, need me to find you a magazine or something?”

“I’m good, thanks,” comes the reply, strained through clenched teeth.

“Lotion?” Ted suggests even as his face is burning.

“I’m _fine_ , Beetle, _thank you_.”

Ted exits into the hallway and closes the door behind him. Having observed they're alone on the floor, he leans against the wall, his hands folded behind his back, and so his solemn guard duty begins.

 _Poor guy,_ he thinks with a smirk. And sure, he couldn’t bring himself to say it, but Ted had a similar issue once when he was just starting out, back in Chicago. Locked in battle with the Masked Maurauder, twisting and contorting every which way, and, well. Something about the warmth and friction of tight clothing redirected the blood flow for a moment.

He’d been about ready to keel over from embarrassment, but it wasn’t like he could excuse himself in the middle of a fistfight. At least Booster’s lucky in that regard.

Well, the Marauder noticed and became real uncomfortable, which is how Ted gained the upper hand that day. After apprehending him and swiftly delivering him to the police, his erection tucked as stealthily as he could, Ted had made a hasty retreat.

They'd faced off several times after that but thankfully none of them had ever felt the need to bring up that particular event.

Ted stretches, still blushing a little at the memory. Maybe Booster _should_ add some shorts to his costume after this. Those golden tights of his sure hug every curve of his, and when the light catches it it’s almost like you can’t help but --

 _Hurry up already, Booster_.

Ted readjusts his cowl and whistles a few bars of ‘What a feeling’. He’d go downstairs to see if he might soften Canary’s ire, they're probably already late by now, but he promised Booster. If the cleaning lady should come and interrupt he’d probably need even longer to --

Are there verses to ‘What a feeling’? He seems to be whistling the chorus over and over.

Okay, maybe he _should_ find Booster a magazine. Ted has his own little stash in his room, at the bottom of a box he keeps blueprints in. Nothing too scandalous, a few copies of Hustler and Playboy. Who knows if that’s to Booster’s tastes, but it’d probably make it easier than going by imagination alone. Ted wonders idly what's going on in Booster's head right now as his hands are --

_Jeez, where the hell did that come from?_

He finds himself frantically pacing back and forth the width of the hallway, singularly focused on trying to remember the lyrics (and the verses, are there verses) to that song. He exhales deeply as he hums to himself, “. _..now I’m hmm hmm hmm as I’m dancing for my liiiife._..”

“Ready,” a voice mutters behind him. Ted spins around meeting the eyes of Booster standing in the doorway to the mens’ room, Booster's tan face a little more flushed than usual.

Ted forces himself not to glance down, but he can see Booster is in the process of putting his gloves on. “Okay, good,” is all he can think to say, and without another word they're both hurrying down the hallway, down the stairs.

As they push the big doors open they reveal an empty sidewalk. And no limousine.

“They left without us!” Ted whines. "Max is going to kill us."

Booster pulls both hands through his hair. “So we get a taxi!”

“The limo is late as it is with this traffic, we’d get there forty minutes after everyone's gone home.”

“The Bug?”

“Out of commission while I’m doing upgrades.”

“Okay. Okay,” Booster mutters to himself and then goes quiet.

Ted's heart rate is through the roof. Max _lives_ for these promotional appearances. They're gonna get kicked off the team.

Booster lifts his eyes to the sky, and then he turns to Ted. “So we fly there.”

“Yeah, one of us can’t fly,” Ted hisses.

“I’ll carry you."

"No, no," Ted throws up his arms in frustration. “Your ring probably can't handle the both of us. I'm not some waifish damsel in distress, you know.” He casts a glance to the golden embossed ring on Booster's finger. “Like, what's its maximum load?”

“Again, I have no idea how the ring works,” Booster enunciates slowly. “But I’ve flown loads of people before. I can fly you.”

“Okay, we'll... _try_ ,” Ted mutters. He feels a twinge of panic in the back of his mind. He’s not fat like he was when he was younger, but he’s... solid. That thing about not being a waifish damsel wasn’t meant as a gag. The ring or Booster's strength might fail and then what? “How do we do this?”

“Usually people just,” Booster raises his arms to demonstrate. “Wrap their arms around my neck and I, you know, carry them.”

“No, no, no,” Ted makes a face. “I’m not Lois Lane, I’m not going to arrive at the Italian embassy carried like a babe in arms.”

Booster frowns in thought. “Fireman’s carry?”

Ted snorts in derision.

“You’re making us even more late, you know,” Booster remarks. “Okay so -- what if I get, like, horizontal and you get up and ride me?”

The force of Ted's gigglesnort is so strong it feels like his brain is going to explode out of his nose. “Oh my god, Booster!” he howls.

“Oh come on!” Booster snaps back, face flushed. “I didn’t --!”

The look on Booster’s face makes Ted laugh even harder, and he thinks that this is good, a last moment of joy before he's killed either by gravity or their millionaire manager.

Booster lifts a finger, about to say something. Instead he sets his jaw in determination and steps behind Ted in one swift motion. Ted feels the sudden pressure of strong arms snaking under his arms and around his chest, and the next thing he knows the ground below is retreating at a shocking pace.

“Wait! _Booster!!_ ” Ted claws at the strong arms holding him before he realizes that might not be the best idea. Instead he grabs Booster's wrists in a steel grip and tells himself he _really_ shouldn’t look down. Down at his feet dangling 6o feet above the New York asphalt, but he can't seem to move his head. Or blink.

“You’re trembling,” Booster chuckles behind him. “You’re not scared? I’ve seen you leap out of the Bug with only that trapeze handle to support you at higher altitudes than this.”

“Yeah, well," Ted swallows thickly, his voice sounding thin at this height. "I built that winch myself, I know exactly how it works and how much weight it supports,” His eyes are watering from the wind and the lack of blinking. “It’s a whole different kettle of fish to relying on an idiot with a magic ring.”

“Hey, you really want to pick this moment to insult the idiot with the magic ring?” Booster snaps back, though there’s a softness to his voice.

“Right." The ground beneath them seems fuzzy and blurred at this distance. Finally Ted manages to force his eyelids closed, and then open. “Got it. Sorry.”

“Anyway I'm pretty sure it’s not magic. I don’t think the Legion _used_ magic.”

“You stole the ring from the Legion of Superheroes?” Ted twists his head to look at Booster’s face, but the motion makes him want to throw up. 

“They weren’t using it at the time,” Booster replies matter-of-factly, and Ted doesn’t feel like pressing the matter. He’ll let that one lie until they’re back on solid ground. “So, uh,” Booster says. “Which way to the Italian embassy?”

“You don’t even know where we’re going?” Ted huffs. "Did you pick a direction at random? You unbelievable -- okay, stop, stop, let me get my bearings.” Ted's annoyance is more acting than actual, an effort to swallow down the fear, and he's pretty sure Booster knows it too. Ted raises his gaze to scan the horizon, nausea welling up in him. _You’re in the Bug,_ he tells himself. _Just looking at the New York skyline._ He's been up here before, he's made his way above the city before. To his right he can see the the Hudson, and to the left, far ahead, there’s Central Park. He releases his steel grip on Booster’s arm to point his thumb behind him to the right. “That way.”

And they’re off again.

"Just give me a heads-up if you're gonna hurl," Booster tells him.

"I can't make any promises."

Ted can feel his heart thumping in his chest and before his inner eye is the mental image of the force his body would hit the ground with from this height. He can feel his feet dangling. Would he be this terrified if it was Superman carrying him? On the one hand, Supes is the very image of dependability. When Supes holds on to someone they stay held. On the other hand, Ted must have earned quite a bit of goodwill from Booster, willing to help his buddy out with an errant boner.

_Phrasing, Ted._

“Say, Booster.”

“Yeah?”

“It’d be really rotten to get rid of a witness to something embarrassing up here, right?”

He can feel the warm exhale of a chuckle against his ear.

“Maybe a little rotten.”

“Just so we’re agreed.”

It’s odd, relying on someone this... completely. Ted never worries leaping out of the Bug because he designed it, he built the winch, he knows what his body can and cannot do. Doing even a straightforward thing like that you have to be innately aware of your own strengths and shortcomings. Back home in Chicago he worked alone, relying on no one but himself. Getting hurt when he failed. Now he's part of this _team,_ and how eager he was to show the things he could do, be an asset to the others, never really considering they'd be there for _him_ when he came up short.

And Booster, this clueless kid in an age he doesn’t know. Ted never imagined he'd find someone who operated on his same kind of frequency, and then it turns out to be a guy from thousands of years into the future. What are the odds?

The sky is turning purple and gold, and the rays of the setting sun are painting the buildings and streets below them a golden red. Ted looks down (past his dangling feet) and recognizes the street. “We’re just about there, Booster! I can see the building!”

“The one up ahead?”

“Yeah.”

“How are for time?”

“Four minutes to go, and -- Booster, I see the car! The gang’s pulling up now. We made it!”

“Four minutes, and this is your first time flying?”

Booster tightens his grip ever so slightly, and Ted stiffens in his arms. “I mean I’ve flown the Bug, but -- yes.”

The whistle of the wind turns into a sharp roar, tugging at their clothes, while Ted's stomach seems to tumble into his feet.

“Booster, _Booster,_ what the hell are you -- “ The wind snatches Ted's breath right out of his throat. They’re racing upwards, upwards, so fast it makes Ted's eyes water, and in a second the car, the street, the buildings are specks so far, far beneath them.

They stop just as sudden, the wind still again, and Ted is vaguely aware his eyes are pinched shut.

“Well?” Booster gently speaks into his ear.

Ted knows he's trembling again, shaking like a leaf in Booster’s arms and he doesn’t care how Booster might tease him, he should know human bodies aren’t built to experience these velocities without protection, and anyway what does he expect going--

Booster laughs softly. “Ted, come on. Look.”

Ted hesitantly forces his eyes open.

They’re above the clouds, a full _horizon_ of pink and purple clouds, golden streaks of sunlight making their edges glow. They look like something out of a renaissance painting, like cotton candy with swirls of golden caramel, off-set by the robin’s egg blue sky, and it seem to stretch into infinity.

It’s beautiful.

Ted exhales in awe. He feels like if Booster let him go right now he’d step on a purple cloud, almost weightless. He knows logically they’re even further above the asphalt and the cars and the buildings, all the people down there in the dirt and exhaust, but that feels like a different dimension. They're completely alone up here on this impossibly serene landscape stretching ahead like an ocean all around them.

“Booster, it’s...”

“I know.” Ted can hear the smile in his voice.

They stay still for a moment, breathing in air that, while thin, seems shockingly pure and untainted, and then Booster begins the descent. They're enveloped in a haze of golden fog that leaves a fine mist of moisture on their skin and clothes, and then the next moment they've passed through the clouds again. The streets come into view, fuzzy and distant, and that’s when Ted feels the vertigo return. Booster shifts his grip for a moment, and in a blink the serenity Ted experienced up above the clouds gets flushed out of his system.

“Uh, Booster,” Ted swallows. “Don’t let me go before both my feet are securely on the ground, okay? If it’s like when you drive really fast for a long time and then you mean to stop but your sense of speed is all wrong and you--”

“Beetle,” Booster interrupts. “I know, I do this every day of my life, okay?”

 _He actually does,_ Ted reminds himself as he spots the limo again, parked in front of the Italian embassy. Ted can program complex software and build tools S.T.A.R. Labs would kill to get their hands on, but he doesn’t know what it’s like to be able to fly. Booster has the option to take off at any moment, without a moments hesitation, and go into the stratosphere on a whim. What is it like knowing you can do that every hour of every day?

There are a few stragglers outside the embassy, but it's evident the League and the press have gone inside. Ted’s toes brush against the sidewalk, and Booster eases down slowly until their feet are firmly on the asphalt.

“I’m going to let go of you now, okay?”

“Okay,” Ted says, grateful and a little embarrassed. "Thank you.”

Gently Booster's arms let go, and Ted stumbles slightly as his body gets used to supporting its own weight again. He stands for a moment, regaining his balance, and then Ted pulls Booster’s arm and starts pushing his way through a small group of onlookers. “Excuse me, folks,” he says as he approaches the open door. “Heroes coming through.”

Inside, the sound of Max Lord’s voice reverberates through the sizable entrance hall. “...certainly a big day in the history of international peacekeeping. With our new embassy in Milan we’ll be able to --” Max goes silent as Ted and Booster ease the door to the reception hall open and slip inside. “To...”

They quietly make their way up to the side of the podium, joining the rest of the League. Canary is staring daggers at them, and Ted shrug at her with his most innocent smile. 

“We’ll be able to do a lot of good,” Max turns on his car salesman grin again and raises his arm to the audience. “So without further ado, let’s give a hand to the marvellous members of the Justice League International.”

They walk up as a group and greet the applause and camera flashes. Ted sees Booster beaming. To think he assumed Booster was delayed because of nerves. This is exactly the kind of thing he lives for.

“What did I tell you, Beetle? We made it,” Booster whispers out of the corner of his mouth with his movie star smile.

“I can't believe you guys,” Canary whispers back, and then she turns away muttering something that sounds like “disgusting”. Ted gets a sinking feeling in his stomach.

The Italian ambassador approaches the microphone to say a few words, and J’onn taps Booster gently on the shoulder, unseen by the cameras. “Booster, Beetle,” he mutters. “We’ll need to have a talk about the appropriate place and time for... youthful irreverence.”

Ted's smile fades. “What are you talking about, J’onn? We got a bit delayed due to some -- “ he glances to Booster, who's blushing bright red. “G.I. issues, but we made it.”

“Later,” J’onn says and turns to the crowd. He doesn't smile to the cameras, but then he rarely smiles at all.

Max comes up to position everyone for their posed photos -- Captain Atom shaking the hand of the Italian ambassador, everybody standing around the deal signed by the Prime Minister, that sort of thing -- but as he passes Booster he gives him a strange look.

 _How do they know?_ Booster mouths at Beetle from the other side of the group, looking extremely unhappy.

Guy. Of course it's Guy. Ted shoots him a look and gets a toothy grin from the ginger jerk in return.

So the cat's out of the bag. He'll have to tell Booster it could be worse, he could be caught on camera with a very obvious bulge in his tights. Or locked in battle with the Masked Marauder. Booster's young, he can handle a bit of hormonal embarrassment. The team are the only ones in the know, anyhow. We're here, Max is happy, we've gotten through it.

“Tsk, tsk,” Guy whispers behind them. “You gotta plan your jerk-off session better next time, fellas.”

"We did not have a jerk-off session!" Ted snaps back, a little too loud, a little too fast, and he catches the glint of something metallic in front of them. A tape recorder.

Yeah, Max is going to go _mental_.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a file on my phone were I jot down writing ideas and for some weeks now the one at the top has just said 'Booster boner'. So this is what came of that.
> 
> Also I reserve the right to write things like "Max is going to KILL us" without ANY sadness or bitterness, okay? This is the fun JLI era damnit.
> 
>  **[Songs:](https://open.spotify.com/user/tilly_stratford/playlist/4SqomvmhyncWPEAobYUZ88?si=DNXWufsLSs29KqRywW2U9A)**  
>  Kids in America - Kim Wilde  
> Flashdance... What a Feeling - Irene Cara  
> The Tide is High - Blondie


End file.
